The Hobbie Klivian luck volume, page two
by Sachita
Summary: He supposes there must be a book written about him somewhere titled "The Hobbie Klivian luck volume". It reads something like that: the absurder the circumstances, the worse the bad luck. Of course, Shalla Nelprin of Wraith Squadron had never actually read that book and if she had, she would have added a few lines of her own. Shalla/Hobbie, Wraiths and Rogues. X-wing story.


**The Klivian luck volume, page two**

Her bare feet felt oddly vulnerable in the heavy flightsuit boots as she padded along the silent base, but she had been reluctant to wake her roommates by searching for another pair of shoes, so she had stuck to what she could get.

"Sticking to what I can get", she mused not without a certain nuance of bitterness as she trailed along the cheerless grey corridors- that definitely sounded like something her father would have said. But in the next moment he would have certainly added a "And make sure anyone trying to challenge the bit you got leaves with a broken nose." Oh yes, her father- a man used to dealing with brute force but certainly not with the demands of two teenage daughters.

The clinical light of the corridor was hostile and for a moment she shivered, wondering why she had chosen to leave her warm bed. But then she remembered the dreams and how alive the room had felt upon waking. Not even the reassuring breathing of her bunkmate had drowned the ghosts out. That was why she had chosen to walk the midnight corridors on her own, deeming them the safer place for the clinical light served to bring realness to her surroundings that hadn't been present in the murky dim light of her temporary quarters.

A transparisteel door at the end of the corridor led to the mess hall and she hesitated for a moment, before pressing down on the handle and entering. A midnight snack might not be the worst idea after all. A sudden sound to her right alerted her and instincts made her drop into a combat crouch instantly. After a while though, she relaxed for the sounds in the darkness merely proved to be light snoring. She carefully approached the source of the snores, mindful of waking the person for chances were high that it was a military-trained individual and it was never a good idea to expose any of them to a sudden wake-up call as she was well aware.

In the dim light of her datapad she assessed the person lying half-sprawled over a chair and half-sprawled over the table. Lieutenant Hobbie Klivian of Rogue Squadron. Rogue Squadron was with them on this mission as it had been dubbed "Joint Starfighter Command and Intelligence Operation". On said operation- a strike on this planet against Imperial Cells serving as backup for Warlord Zsinj - the Wraiths had been supposed to provide the Intel while Rogue Squadron provided the backup. In reality it had become more of a muddled joint operation with everyone doing what they were most efficient at. The mission had been a success and they were supposed to return to Coruscant in two days. She felt nearly sorry about that- it had been fun to work with the Rogues on this mission and they had lost no one which qualified as an operation well-done in her book.

Another snort wrenched her out of her thoughts. Suddenly curious she tiptoed closer. A quiet mumble coming from Hobbie made her jerk back, but when he relaxed she approached again. Clad in the beige work garb of the New Republic's most elite squadron, his head was resting on a uniformed arm, long legs stretched out awkwardly to the side. The other arm rested precariously close to the side of the table, loosely holding a datapad.

She stifled a smile that wanted to escape and took another look at him. The tousled sandy hair, closed eyes and tranquil expression made him look nearly boy-like and she quickly stuffed her hands in her pockets before the impulse to stroke the hair back from his forehead could overwhelm her.

Shaking her head about her own antics, she moved to the small kitchenette to fix herself a sandwich, when something fell to the ground with a harsh clatter. Startled, she spun around, a hand at the place where she normally wore her blaster. After a few seconds she realised that it must have been the Lieutenant's datapad dropping to the ground. The sound of the snores had abruptly stopped and the sudden change in the air, fraught with tension, made her aware of the fact that he had woken up.

Feeling silly standing in the dark and waiting for him to react she made her way over to one of the light switches. The sudden bright light illuminated the lacklustre mess hall in the same clinical light that had accompanied her on her walk here and it also shed light on the confused, red-eyed look that Hobbie Klivian wore under his sleep-tousled mane. He had half-risen from his awkward position on the chair and also sported a neat imprint of his sleeve buttons on his forehead. She stifled another smile.

As his eyes fell on her, he looked even more bemused. "Shalla?" he croaked hoarsely and Sith didn't he sound as if he had spent a night drinking with Wes Janson. "What'cha doin' here?"

Shalla didn't know Hobbie Klivian all that well, having mainly had to do with his partner in crime, Wes Janson, who had been the XO of Wraith Squadron during its formation, but she had heard a lot about him already. Thus she merely raised an eyebrow at the sudden question .

"What are you doing here?"

Hobbie stared at her for a moment longer, then he fell heavily back on his seat. "I," he enunciated carefully and Shalla registered the nearly inaudible hard accent that she had trouble placing accompanying his words, "was asleep."

"In the mess hall," she added dryly to his deadpan statement.

He gave her a look reminiscent of Wes Janson. "Yeah," he stated with a tinge of obviousness.

Ignoring the obvious tone, Shalla finished preparing her sandwich and wandered over to where he was sitting. "You have an imprint of your jacket sleeve on your forehead," she pointed out calmly.

"Huh," Hobbie mumbled, only half-awake, then scrubbed a hand over his eyes and groaned deeply. "Ngh." After another long minute that Shalla spent eating and Hobbie spent waking up, he posed a question: "So why are you at," he chanced a look at his chrono, "at two hundred oh five hours in the morning in the mess hall eating a sandwich?"

Shalla didn't look at him. "Couldn't sleep," she lied.

"Yes, me too," was Hobbie's simple reply and as she looked up she could read the same lie in the corners of his eyes. The accent that accompanied his smooth baritone tones suddenly registered with her.

"Core Worlds, right?" she asked, and not waiting for a reply, continued: "Maybe Perlemian Trade Route…"

Hobbie raised his eyebrows, but eventually nodded. "Not bad. Ralltiir."

Shalla wouldn't have pegged him as a Ralltiiri, for the Raltiiri that she had encountered; natives of a vibrant polished world with a financial centre- at least before Moff Tion had wreaked havoc on the world- had all been different, more polished in a way. She was glad he was not.

"And you?" Hobbie prompted, his dark blue eyes filled with curiosity. Shalla knew she owed him a reply. "Ingo. Makes Tatooine look like Coruscant Main Square."

Wes Janson would have probably had a witty reply ready to her provocative statement, but Hobbie merely nodded. He didn't seem to be a loud person or one that drew attention to himself when on his own. Shalla wasn't yet sure whether she'd peg him as boring or not.

Hobbie looked at her for a long moment, and the burning gaze of his blue eyes was hard to stand. She dropped her gaze after a moment and when she looked up again, an understanding smile had taken place on his finely-cut features.

"You are tired of it," he said suddenly with a wide sweep of his hand, indicating the room. "Tired of this mindless hunt after Zsinj, chasing shadows with red laserfire."

The way he said it was nearly poetic and haunting. Shalla had to revise her earlier opinion; he was not boring or shy, just observing and content to remain in his watcher position until he could add a weighty argument to the discussion.

"How do you know?" she asked finally, carefully controlling her surprise.

Hobbie smiled a twisted, tired smile that did not reach his eyes. "Simple observation. Your hands are constantly in motion, you fidget, and you look around the room as if you wish to blast it in oblivion. It was a lucky guess. What is the thing we are all tired of these days?"

Shalla looked at him over her half-eaten sandwich. "The Imps."

"Exactly," Hobbie smiled, but it was not a sincere smile and Shalla could see depths behind that smile and not all of them were pleasant or positive.

"What about you?" she asked, in an effort to alleviate the tension that was suddenly hanging over them.

"Me?" Hobbie sounded tired. "Running," he mused and his ocean-blue eyes looked past her, not really seeing her, "running and waiting for something to happen, for us to win or for them to destroy us. Remarkable that we have even lasted that long. Always running, always searching and so often losing. Sometimes it feels as if my entire life has been dictated by these things."

Shalla looked at him, the sandwich forgotten. There was darkness to him that she knew only too well. It came with what they did- kill or be killed. They all had it, even Wes Janson, although he liked to hide it behind those quick and easy smiles and ebullient jokes. Never serious, ever the joker- but sometimes the jokes came too quick and the smiles seemed nearly desperate at times. Hobbie Klivian was different, though he put up a mask to hide the darkness, too. Pessimism could serve to hide the deeper truths as well. But Shalla had learned to hide it efficiently, too, behind quick-witted replies and light-hearted banter that the others accepted with replies filled with the same easy teasing, for they knew as well as her that they all wore those masks for a reason and to wrench them off only meant facing ugly truths that none of them really wanted to see.

Thus, she raised an eyebrow and merely said: "You should work on your optimism skills," seemingly harshly and tactlessly, though desperately willing him to see that she did not wish to go down that dangerous path of revealing the truth on this evening. It had only ever ended in tears and resigned pain for her.

Hobbie flashed a wry smile and Shalla was grateful for she knew that he had caught her hidden meaning. "You are not the first to tell me that." He pointed over to her sandwich. "What the kriff are you eating? It looks as if it's alive!"

"It'f goof," Shalla protested mid-bite. Hobbie made a disgusted face at the red unidentifiable fruit mashed in between the standard-uneatable slices of pressed cheese in her sandwich.

"It is not," he protested. "Which fruit was tortured to achieve such results?" He grimaced so expressively that Shalla started to laugh, the seriousness of the last moments though not forgotten, at least brushed aside. She choked on her sandwich in her mirth and Hobbie raised an amused eyebrow, patting her back with a strong hand which nearly served to send her head-first in her food.

"Yngh," she grumbled once she had recovered, sending him a glare. Hobbie laughed quietly, a strangely unrestrained sound. She found that she liked his laugh.

* * *

"Let's go for a walk," she suddenly said impulsively, once she had regained her voice.

Hobbie gazed at her incredulously. "What, now? Here, now?"

Shalla looked challengingly at him. It had been a spontaneous idea because she had been afraid that their comfortable conversation might turn to awkward silence and then she might have to leave and for some reason she did not want this situation to end just yet. "Yes, now," she replied easily. "Or are you afraid of me?"

Manly pride thus challenged, Hobbie could not say no. "Of course not," he answered indignantly.

"Well, you should better be," Shalla pointed out. "I don't know whether Janson has told you or not, but I am quite proficient at folding people who try to resist my wishes in half. Wes even had the privilege once. Unfortunately, the cantina's latest selection of mashed potatoes on a plate was behind him…"

Hobbie gulped, but then his face transformed into a smile as she ended. "Wes did tell me that you could be scary if you wanted to, but he didn't say anything about the mashed potatoes part. Sith, I would have paid some credits to see that…"

"Don't forget the I-can-fold-you-in-half-part," Shalla warned him sternly, though she was struggling to hold back a smile of her own.

"Never, my Lady," Hobbie proclaimed seriously. He performed a half-bow, reminiscent of the Twi'Leks courteous way of introducing themselves, but ended the bow on an odd note, giving her a wide-eyed look. "Um, don't fold me in half is what I really meant to say?"

Shalla laughed, she couldn't help herself. The grin he threw her could only be described as charming and in that moment she couldn't help but wonder why Wes Janson was the Ladies' man of the two when Hobbie could make his handsome- and yes, it was handsome- face look like that. She angrily willed the strange fluttering of her heart and the silly urge to smile at him away.

Luckily Hobbie didn't seem to have noticed her reaction. "Shall we go?"

Shalla merely nodded. Standing next to him, she realised that he had, although having the normal slightly smaller-than-average stature of combat pilots, at least a head on her. Though slender, she noted further, he was not scrawny-just exactly right. Her cheeks burned at that last thought. Right for whom? Banishing the nagging inner voice, she turned to go towards the exit.

Leaving the base was as usual a bit of a lengthy procedure, but when they had successfully signed the forms they were finally free to walk outside. The planet, though not completely safe- but then again which planet was?- was largely deemed harmless.

Hobbie easily kept up with her and Shalla envied him for his long strides. Being taller had to have its advantages sometimes.

The base they were temporarily stationed on was an old one, taken over from the Imperials and it was built in the manner the Imps liked to construct their buildings, large and imposing and completely unfitting to the structures of this planet. The city surrounding the base was built in a simple way. Most of the houses seemed ancient and decrepit, made of cheap durawood and durasteel. It was not a happy city and its people were suspicious of the New Republic, though Imperial sources on the planet had said much the same.

Maybe they were just suspicious of everything, Shalla thought with a sigh. Still, she knew that the matter was not as easy as it looked at first glance. The New Republic was, in spite of it having most noble ideals, a large organisation and an organisation like that brought bureaucracy, the need to adapt and corruption with it. Being a member of the New Republic had its downsides too.

Hobbie had been silently walking next to her through the shadows of the night, evidently as lost in thoughts as she was, but suddenly he asked: "Do you ever miss Ingo?"

Startled into honestly, Shalla said: "Sometimes…but not the planet. Maybe the people."

Since it was an odd thing to bring up such a question in such an abrupt manner, she shot him a questioning look which he of course did not see in the half-blackness and the sparsely-illuminated tree-lined path they were walking on, but he seemed to catch the silent query.

"I don't know why I asked that," he shrugged. "I guess it's this planet. We had similar trees on Ralltiir."

Shalla gazed at the gargantuan trees next to the path, and then chanced a look at his downturned head, wondering how she could ask what she so badly wanted to. "And-" she cleared her throat, suddenly uneasy, but then again he had started to bring matters like this one up, "and you?"

"No," Hobbie said shortly and something in his voice told Shalla that it was better to let the matter rest.

* * *

A sudden rustling in the bushes in front of them alerted her. It had been quiet, nearly inaudible, but Shalla's father had taught her well. She held up a fist, making Hobbie stop instantly. They crouched down in the cover of a bush. Another rustle. Hobbie tapped two times against her leg. At least two of them.

Shalla held her breath. Then two men appeared on the narrow path out of the opposite tree line. They seemed confused, pointed in different directions and said something to each other- generally behaved incautious. Each of them carried a large blaster.

Uneasily, Shalla looked at Hobbie. His face was only half-visible in the dim light.

"We engage them on a count of three," Hobbie whispered in her ear, so quiet that she nearly couldn't hear it. His warm breath tickled her ear and that, combined with the warm hand he suddenly put on her shoulder, tapping three times, nearly made her forget the potential robbers altogether.

Two taps- one tap-

Shalla charged at the man on the right, seeing Hobbie do the same with the one on the left. The man was large and struggled after a moment's surprise, but Shalla had faced down much larger opponents and knocked him out cold with a few quick hits. Hobbie had subdued his opponent, too, although it took him a moment longer than Shalla.

She stood and waited for the Ralltiirian to get up. Hobbie did so after a while , coming to stand in front of her. "What do we do with them now?" Shalla offered.

"Tie 'em together and to a tree, then alert the local authorities," Hobbie replied and took a deep breath to say something else-

-when suddenly a dark shadow jumped down from the tree, something metallic glinting in a shadowy hand and knocked the pilot down- then Hobbie cried out in surprise and the shadow jumped up and was away before Shalla could have done anything.

"Hobbie!" she called anxiously, hurrying over to where he was still lying motionlessly, then looked around, but there seemed to be no one else nearby. Still…that shadow had come out of nowhere, too. With that thought in mind, she looked down at Hobbie in the light of her flashlight. He was unconscious, but his pulse was steady as she quickly assessed and he was bleeding from a deep cut in his shoulder. The bruise forming on his forehead explained his state.

Thinking quickly, she tore some strips out of her blouse and tied his shoulder with it. Briefly, the thought flashed through her head that she had become far too proficient at bandaging wounds. The thought, though inconsequential, made her shiver for a second. Pulling herself together quickly, Shalla grabbed Hobbie and dragged him in the cover of some of the bushes that seemed to be alien and hostile out of the sudden. He was difficult to move but she held on and when she had managed, looked over to the two thugs.

"Now to you two nerf-herders…" she mumbled more to herself than to anyone else. They both wore belts she discovered and decided to use them to her advantage. The two thugs were both nondescript human males, middle-aged, both with excessive facial hair and a generally neglected state of appearance. Shalla wrinkled her nose, but she tied them together quickly enough, gagged them and then hurried back to the fallen Rogue. He hadn't moved from the position she had left him in.

"Hobbie," she said and patted his cheek. "Wake up."

A quiet groan was the answer.

"Hobbie," she repeated.

"Huh?"

He finally opened his eyes and the look in the blue depths was complete confusion.

"Sh'lla?"

Shalla was concerned at the way he slurred her name. "Hobbie? Are you in pain?"

He seemed a bit more coherent now and there was a spark of awareness in his expression that hadn't been there before. "No…no pain." With her help he gingerly tried to sit up and groaned sharply, a hand going up to his shoulder. Sheepishly, he amended after taking a deep breath:

"Maybe a little pain?"

Shalla was too tense to smile at his sheepish expression and she couldn't bring herself to smile when she wasn't sure if he was maybe worse injured than he let on. Plus, she could not be certain that the area was safe. "Can you stand?" Carrying him back was definitely out of the question.

Hobbie gave her a wobbly smile and mumbled: "We'll see." He could stand, albeit shakily and leaning heavily on her. Shalla turned them around to face the way they had come from and they started limping toward the base. Hobbie mumbled something she couldn't make out.

"What did you say?"

His warm breaths hit her ear as he panted self-deprecatingly: "Ah, nothing. Just-" he took a laboured breath, "marvelling at my usual luck. I get to go on a walk with a beautiful woman and get knifed, effectively ruining the walk. A usual page out of the Klivian luck book titled _Crash and Burn_."

Shalla couldn't prevent the warmth rising to her cheeks at the "beautiful woman" part, but she scoffed at his pessimism. "Save the optimism for later, Klivian," she advised.

Hobbie chuckled weakly. "Will do, Ma'am." After a short pause he said: "What about our friends?"

"I thought I'd tell Wes to call planet security down on them."

"No!" Hobbie's protest struck her as amusing since his voice had pitched alarmingly on the word. Dismayed, he continued: "Not Wes. Everyone but Wes." Hastily he added: "Or Wedge. Or Tycho."

Shalla sniggered. "Why not?" Everyone knew of the closeness of the senior officers of Rogue Squadron and so she surmised that his reply to her question could only be of a humorous nature.

Hobbie groaned heavily, he sounded resigned. "Sith, they will never let me live that down."  
Shalla flashed a wicked smile, but it soon became genuine. "Oh come on, they will be sympathetic once they hear about the knife wound."

"No," Hobbie replied and it was a definite whine, "they won't be." Shalla chuckled quietly at his plaintive tone of voice- she had of course heard that Hobbie Klivian was also without Janson a force to be reckoned with, if equipped with a somewhat fatalistic humour and dry wit instead of ten-years-old- humour, but she had never entirely believed that. Now she definitely could.

Hobbie leaned a bit more heavily on her shoulder and she winced under the sudden new weight. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yeah," he whispered, "just a bit…just a bit…" He didn't finish his sentence and Shalla twisted to look at him, shocked at the way he had closed his eyes. Sweat drops were starting to gather on his forehead. He looked ill and exhausted and his breath was coming in short little gasps. To be short, he looked horrible and his alarmingly waxy complexion only served to enhance that impression.

"Lean against the tree for a moment, will you?" Shalla asked, unable to hide the quaver in her voice. He leaned against one of the trees at the side of the path obediently enough and she released him to dig for her comlink in her trouser pocket. Once found, she wrenched it out only to find him watching her with half-opened pained blue eyes. "What are you doing?"

"I am calling Wes and not just so he can alert planet security. I am telling him to come and meet us at the base entrance."

"No," he protested again and this time there was only indignation in his voice. A proud and stubborn one he certainly was, Shalla mused with a certain resignation, but her reply was firm. "Yes. Look, it's not far anymore -"

"That's not what I meant," Hobbie interrupted and she wanted to say that he had completely misunderstood her, too, but he continued quickly. "I meant to say I can walk to the med centre on my own, thank you. I don't need Wes babysitting me or-" He attempted to make a step forward to prove his point, but swayed alarmingly and Shalla ended up half-holding him up.

"Sith," she hissed, this time with the beginnings of real anger, "why are you so kriffing stubborn?"

The way he leaned into her resembled a half-hug and Shalla couldn't stop a small shiver at his warm proximity, though she shook it off quickly- she really had more important things to do right now.

"I could order you not to, you know," Hobbie mumbled weakly into her neck.

"No, you can't," she shot back, already placing a call to Lieutenant Janson. "Wraith Squadron, remember?"

Hobbie didn't protest anymore and so she just held onto him, anxiously listening to his breaths that were thankfully still coming strong.

* * *

"Janson here…" Wes sounded beyond groggy.

"Wes," Shalla began, choosing the informal address which she knew he preferred although it had taken her a while at the beginning for her father had certainly taught her different, "Shalla here. We have an emergency." Hobbie made a noise of protest against her, but Shalla ignored him. "It's Hobbie."

Wes sounded instantly alert. "What has happened? What can I do?"

"Come to the base entrance and help me bring Hobbie to the med centre, I'll explain later," Shalla got out hurriedly. Wes acknowledged that tersely and Shalla wasted no time, quickly getting them started on the path again. It was thankfully not far and she was happy about that because Hobbie was starting to put more and more weight on her shoulder. Shalla was hard-pressed to stifle her anxiety since he also didn't make a sound anymore save for a pained grunt here and there.

Wes awaited them at the gates. His dark hair was messy, the eyes bloodshot and he merely wore a sweater and a pair of green tracksuit trousers. His flight boots were unlaced and looked as if he had just slipped into them. His green eyes were full of worry as he surveyed them and he quickly took Hobbie's other arm, relieving Shalla of some of the weight.

"What happened?" he asked tightly as they started out on the maze of corridors that led to the med center.

Shalla opened her mouth, but much to her surprise Hobbie beat her to it.

"It was standard situation page two, Wes." His voice was weak and pained but Shalla was relieved to hear it.

Wes chuckled, but she didn't miss the underlying anxiety. "Page two of the Klivian luck volume?" he queried. "The standard _I have downtime which means I get hurt_ page?"

"'Xactly th'one," Hobbie slurred. He sounded as if he would fall over in the next seconds and Wes tightened his grip on him, while Shalla did the same. But it was to no avail, mere moments later, Hobbie went completely limp and the sudden deadweight made Shalla struggle for breath. It was difficult to hold on to him because gravitation was working against them.

But Wes had obviously already anticipated what would happen and instructed tightly: "Help me lower him to the floor."

Shalla did as Wes had said and looked on in anxious silence as Wes rolled Hobbie carefully over. His still expression and the closed eyes made Shalla unwillingly think of how she had first found him in the mess hall and she could not help but wish she had just left him there and not come up with that silly suggestion of going for a walk.

During her musings, Wes had already placed a call to the med staff, telling them to come immediately. "I don't want to move him," he explained and for the first time sounded a bit helpless. Shalla nodded in understanding. "I don't think he has internal injuries, but he did take quite the fall," she said and proceeded to tell Wes everything.

"Sounds like Hobbs," was his simple reply as she had finished and they both gazed down at the unconscious Rogue. Sweat droplets were beginning to gather on his forehead again and Wes wiped them away, leaving a calloused palm on Hobbie's forehead for a while, who seemed to calm under the touch. "He is burning up," Wes mumbled more to himself, but Shalla heard it and felt even worse for ever persuading Hobbie to come with her on that walk. She couldn't keep up her tough front in that moment because it was Hobbie and she had begun to care for him in an entirely different way and now he was lying there, hurt, and it was her fault. Wes must have seen something in her expression, because he flashed a reassuring smile and said:

"Hey, now, Nelprin, don't go feeling bad about the whole thing. I am pretty sure he enjoyed going for a walk with you."

Shalla tried to ignore the sly smile that grazed his face as he had finished and replied a bit heatedly: "Well I am also pretty sure that he didn't want to be attacked by thugs today night."

This time, Wes laughed a little, and Shalla could understand what drew Inyri Forge to him. "Only Hobbie could go on a walk with a pretty woman and be attacked by thugs in the middle of the night – notwithstanding on a path that only few use during the day…"

"He said about the same thing and he also said that you will tease him about it forever," Shalla quipped.

"Oh I definitely will, don't worry," Wes grinned, but when his look dropped back to Hobbie, it softened. Shalla was again reminded of the closeness the senior officers shared and hoped that she would never find out what would happen to Wes's joker countenance if Hobbie were truly lost.

"Excuse me, sir," a mechanical voice said suddenly.

Shalla and Wes looked up to see three med droids with a hovering stretcher next to them. "Is this the patient, sir?" the droid asked, indicating Hobbie.

"Yes," Wes simply replied although there was a note of impatience in his voice. He got to his feet and stood next to Shalla, watching as Hobbie was loaded on the stretcher and hurried away. Then he turned to her. "You don't have to go to the med-centre as well, you know," he stated a bit awkwardly. "If you want to go back to your quarters, I got it from here."

"Thanks but no," Shalla stated decisively if a bit too quickly. "I was the one who got him in the mess in the first place," she added, almost defensively.

Wes's green eyes were very thoughtful as he looked at her. "Alright," he merely said.

Five hours later found Wes and Shalla sitting on very uncomfortable duraplast chairs next to Hobbie's bed, in which the former had been placed after the obligatory bacta bath for "surveillance reasons" as the med droid had put it. Wes had nodded off some time ago and his head hung low on his chest, mouth half-opened. Sometimes, a snore escaped him and he moved agitatedly in his sleep, the very contrast to Hobbie who might as well have been a statue for all his lack of movement. Sometimes Shalla checked if he still breathed for his utter stillness scared her.

Blueish shadows chased themselves on the wall of the small room that was dim in the light that came in from the corridor and it was so very quiet save for Wes's occasional snores. Shalla shuddered. She hadn't been able to sleep at all and could feel how exhaustion started to catch up with her, yet every time she started to nod off, Hobbie's pale face flashed through her head.

She couldn't have even said why it upset her so that it was him out of everyone who was injured, but it did. Shalla heaved a quiet sigh and studied him. The sandy hair was matted against the pillow on the one side and stood up in crazy cowlicks on the other side. His light eyelashes brushed against the pale cheeks and his nose was firmly burrowed in the pillow, mouth slightly upturned at the corners. Shalla sighed again. Alright. She admitted it to herself- he was attractive and their talk, brief as it might have been, had also revealed that he was an eclectic, intellectual and truly interesting man. It was no sin to fall for a man like him, but being a pilot herself she knew how quick-lived, destructive and hectic their lives were at times, so it was maybe not a sin, but a stupid thing nonetheless.

Great, she mentally berated herself. Just great.

As if on cue, Hobbie's eyes opened and he blinked up at her sleepily.

"Shalla," he whispered with a smile and his smile widened as his eyes drifted over to Wes.

"Are you alright?" Shalla whispered back, relieved to see him awake.

"Fine…" he mumbled sleepily, and then added: "You?"

When she nodded, his eyes, already on the verge of closing, suddenly drifted over to her. "Come here." Shalla looked at him askance. She knew that he would never pose such a request when fully awake, but right now he was loopy on painkillers and only half-awake, so she didn't wonder about it for long. "Please?" He added almost plaintively. "Just want to see if—you alright."

The simple request moved her oddly and she couldn't refuse him. Not when he sounded so adorable and drowsy. "Alright." She clambered over on the bed and sat down next on the pillow next to his head. Hobbie put up an uncoordinated hand and removed a strand of dark hair from her face. "You're so beautiful, Sh'lla," he mumbled already half-asleep and then his hand slid down to land on the pillow while his eyes closed and his breath evened out.

Shalla couldn't bring herself to leave his side, not even when he suddenly snuggled up to her, pressing his head against her thigh. Instead, her hand dropped to his hair and she combed through it gently, while he made a contended noise. A small part of her wondered what she was doing but she squashed that part ruthlessly and instead felt content and a bit giddy sitting there next to him, a feeling she rarely, if ever, had.

* * *

On the next morning she woke up with a start, momentarily disoriented. The quiet sound of breathing startled her and she looked down to find herself still on the bed next to Hobbie Klivian, who slept peacefully at her side. Wes must have woken up sometime during the night, too, for his head was now pillowed on his crossed arms that were lying on the lower half of Hobbie's bed. Shalla's face burned with embarrassment at the thought that he had seen her, snuggled up to Hobbie like that. Her embarrassment deepened when she thought of what he must have thought in that moment.

Mentally berating herself, she carefully slid out of the bed. Hobbie made a dejected sound at the sudden loss of warmth, but he did not wake up. Relieved she made her way to the door, but only when she was out on the corridor she allowed herself to breathe again.

Oh, of course she had heard of Wes's and Hobbie's conquests regarding women. Mostly Wes's name had been mentioned, but she had been warned about Hobbie, too. Although not in the same manner as Wes he had certainly also left a few broken hearts along the way and Shalla was not about to be added to that list. She refused to think that it might become something different for she was certainly not a woman that would fit to someone like Hobbie Klivian: she was loud, impulsive and had sometimes been called brazen. What lay beneath that façade was only for very few to see and she did not trust him enough for that because exposing that side of herself also meant exposing herself to potential hurt. Squaring her shoulders firmly and narrowing her dark eyes, Shalla walked down the corridor and resisted the impulse to look back.

* * *

Mere days later found her sitting in the mess hall. They were back on Coruscant and Rogue Squadron had returned to flying their own missions while they had returned to Intelligence work. To be short, all was as it had been before except that Shalla was gloomy and had been gloomy for days. Hobbie had been over to see her on the day of their departure...

" _Shalla!"_

 _She looked up at the sound of Hobbie's voice and he was no two feet away from her, already clad in his orange flightsuit, Rogue Squadron patch firmly attached to his shoulder._

" _Hobbie," she replied neutrally, although inside, she was quivering._

" _I wanted to," he fidgeted with the sleeves of his flightsuit before meeting her eyes again, "umm- I mean I wanted to thank you for helping me yesterday."  
"No need to thank me," Shalla replied, tensely lowering her eyes to the blaster she was cleaning._

" _And I-" Hobbie began hesitatingly. She knew what he would try to say and she didn't want to hear it._

" _If you'd excuse me, Lieutenant," she replied harshly, "I have work to do."_

" _But-" he started and when she looked at him, she could read open hurt and confusion in his eyes. Quickly, she looked away again and said quietly: "Please."_

 _He didn't reply and when she dared to lift her eyes from the blaster he was already gone._

* * *

Morosely, Shalla stirred the contents of her Corellian spice soup. A part of her was convinced that it had been the right course of action to take, while the other was lost in the memory of his laugh and his blue gaze. She let the spoon drop in the soup with a clatter.

"What did that soup ever do to you?"

Startled, she looked up. "Wes. What are you doing here?"

The smile on his face was friendly enough, but there was something in his eyes that made Shalla tense. He was Hobbie's best friend after all.

"You know," Wes started without preamble, "he has a much more mature sense of humour than I do."

"Really?" Shalla asked doubtfully. "Why hasn't some of that rubbed off on you by now then?"

"No one, not even Hobbs, can say anything against my humour of Ewok awesomeness," Wes proclaimed with a wide grin. Then he leaned closer. "Seriously, Shalla, I don't know what happened between you two but he has been worse than usual and I for one don't want to hear in which increasingly painful ways we are all gonna die all the time."

Shalla smiled reluctantly. "There was nothing," she eventually replied, weary of the conversation.

Wes ignored her. "Just give him a chance," he said close to her ear, then straightened up and departed without a word of goodbye.

" What was Wes Janson doing here?" It was the voice of her Commander, Face Loran. Kell was next to him and both looked at her oddly. "Did we interrupt something?" Face added, wagging his eyebrows mischievously.

"Leave it," Shalla hissed and was both surprised and horrified at the way her eyes had started to burn. She did not feel like that. Ever. Kell stepped closer. "Did he do something to you?" he asked and there was old animosity in his voice. Although Wes and Kell had settled their differences, they were still wary around each other.

"No," Shalla forced out against the lump in her throat. "He didn't do anything." With that, she got up and made a hurried exit, ignoring Kell's and Face's protest.

* * *

A few days later after a training flight Hobbie was standing in the hangar in civilian clothes, a clearly uncomfortable look on his face and his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket. Shalla sighed.

The other Wraiths passed them by with only a few questioning looks, but Shalla, helmet under her arm approached Hobbie slowly.

Before she could say anything though, Face and Kell were suddenly standing next to them.

"Was it him?" Kell demanded. Hobbie shot the man a startled look.

"Was I what?" he asked defensively.

"Shalla, was it him?" Kell repeated, ignoring Hobbie, whose look was starting to turn from defensive to slightly irritated. Kell narrowed his eyes at Hobbie, who glared back frigidly and his look told them that he was certainly a force to be reckoned with. Shalla shook her head at Kell and Face: "Hobbie didn't do anything."

They didn't move, so Shalla added an exasperated: "Seriously boys, I can stand up for myself. I could have you both lying on the ground screaming in a matter of seconds and you know it."

Sheepishly they nodded and finally departed, not without a last glare at Hobbie.

Hobbie meanwhile turned to look at her with a clear question in his eyes. "Sorry," Shalla sighed. "They were having a big brother moment."

A hesitant smile curled the edge of his lips. "I see. Shalla, I wanted to say- if I made you uncomfortable, I wish to apologise. It was certainly not my intention."

Shalla felt a bit cornered but she also knew that the situation had to be resolved. "No, it's not you. You don't have to apologise. I guess I just misinterpreted some things."

Hobbie stepped closer, hope in his eyes. "What did you misinterpret?"

For some reason, that made her angry. "Things," she replied a bit harsher than she had intended.

"What things?" he prodded. Shalla shook her head and wanted to move past him, but he caught her arm, a pleading look in his eyes. "Look, Shalla, I really like you and I also really liked going for a walk with you and I know I have kriffed this up big time, but I am not so clear about the how."

Giving in, Shalla sighed and her shoulders slumped. "It's not about you, it's about me," she admitted wearily. "I just don't want to end up as a notch on your bedpost."

The confused and hurt look was back, but it was mixed with some anger. "Is that how you think about me?"

"I have heard stories," Shalla pointed out. "About you and Wes, or better about your conquests."

Hobbie released her and dragged a hand through his sandy hair.

"They don't-" he started then began again. "They don't matter- they were looking for a distraction and I guess I was, too. It was about mutual use…just a way to escape all the daily kriff-ups, for me but also for them. It's not something I am proud of. But," he added earnestly, "you are not like that, Shalla. I like you. I would like to get to know you better and not like those girls. You are nothing like them. Just give me a chance."

At her look he added a hasty: "If you want to of course. I mean, if you don't, you don't have to, but if you do and if you really do, I mean-" Shalla amusedly watched as he dug a deeper hole for himself with his babbling.

Decision made, she stopped his stream of consciousness with a bold move forward and kissed him. It felt right and she decided that she wouldn't regret this, as he leaned in and returned the kiss.

When she stepped back, Hobbie's blue eyes were wide but he looked happy.

"What I really meant to say," he told her a few seconds later, "I wanted to ask you out. On a real date. A walk in the park without thugs, a dinner, not a midnight sandwich…"

S halla smiled. "I would like that," she replied and took his hand, tugging him towards the exit.

"So, what made you change your mind?" he asked, following her obediently. "Surely not my inspirational speech…"

She grinned. "No. Your optimism skills." Leaning closer, Shalla added conspiratorially: "And your rear end is not half-bad either."

Hobbie laughed.

 **-Fin-**

* * *

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